Blech.In what appears to be the age of a sort of new age, touchy-feely mentality, angels have come back in a big way. Now they're not just symbols from heaven, but selling points for everything from pins to television shows, greeting cards to movies.
It's "angel chic," or something.
In that vein we have Michael, from director Nora Ephron (Heartburn, Sleepless In Seattle). Michael is a movie about an angel, but he's not your typical angel.
Nope, Michael (John Travolta) is a slob. He's rough around the edges. He needs a shave, he smokes a ton, and he eats his breakfast cereal like most little kids do, covered in sugar and like he's using a shovel instead of a spoon. Michael lives in the office of a hotel in Iowa. A couple of reporters (William Hurt and Robert Pastorelli) from a tabloid hear about the angel and are told to bring him to Chicago to appear on the cover of the tabloid. They get saddled with another reporter (Andie "Ugh" McDowell), who's supposed to be an angel expert.
How much you want to bet she falls in love with Hurt's character? How much you want to bet Michael plays a hand in it?
Travolta plays Michael like a tourist. In fact, he is, and he's been to earth before. There's a certain amount of charm to the character (like when he dances to Chain Of Fools in a roadhouse, bringing the women out onto the floor with him, or when he has pie with Joey Lauren Adams). Women dig him (they say he "smells like cookies") despite the fact that if he didn't have wings, they wouldn't give him the time of day.
But it's a mess. The funny moments fall flat, the charm isn't enough to carry the film (or Travolta's character and performance), and plus, it's got Andie McDowell. That's an immediate strike against it, right there.
There are better angel movies (and better Travolta movies, for that matter) for you to watch.I invented standing in line.